


finishing touch

by thir13enth



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, The End, and death of glenn, basically dorothea helps ingrid with make-up, by Art!, inspired!, mention of car accident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22011043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thir13enth/pseuds/thir13enth
Summary: Ingrid is her favorite canvas.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Comments: 10
Kudos: 51





	finishing touch

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by this [beautiful art](https://twitter.com/denimcatfish/status/1210148052360544256/photo/1) by **Denimcatfish** on twitter - this is gorgeous and soft and beautiful, and I could _not_ get it out of my head for the next few days since i first saw it and honestly it's still in my head

As the credits roll over the screen of her laptop, Ingrid sniffles, rubbing her eyes of tears and scooping the last bit of the melted cookies-and-cream ice cream into her mouth before half-tossing it onto her nightstand, already covered with candy wrappers and chip bags of whatever was in her pantry.

Some trash falls to the floor, probably adding to whatever crumbs were already on the hardwood floor.

A lot of cleaning up to do tomorrow morning.

Dorothea hides an amused smile, watching Ingrid from the other side of the bed. For as much of a no-nonsense person Ingrid is, Dorothea continues to be impressed by how taken Ingrid is by this romance movie.

How many times have they watched this one already? At least twice in the last year — each and every time Ingrid decides to visit after a long week of work. Ingrid bawls at exactly the same moments, exactly the same lines, as if on cue — and in fact, the more times she watches the movie, the worse it gets because she memorizes the entire movie word-for-word.

"I'm crying like a baby again over this same damn movie, how embarrassing," Ingrid laments, wiping her eyes another time with the back of her hand.

Dorothea chuckles, covering her mouth with her hand. "You're adorable," she replies simply. "And you don't have to be ashamed about shedding a few tears for a drama — that's what they're meant to do! Not to mention some stories just grip you more than others, you know?"

Ingrid laughs, sniffling again. She tilts her head up toward the ceiling, as if trying to force the water back into her eyes. "God, I _hate_ crying," she groans, blinking her eyes dry. "And I must have a terrible crying face too."

Dorothea waves her hand at Ingrid. "Oh, don't be silly,” she assures her. “You're lovely, always."

Ingrid gives her a crooked smile before closing her eyes and turning her head up again. As she waits for her face to recompose itself, Dorothea swivels her head behind them to look at the time. Just a quarter past ten. Still early in the night — especially for the end of the week.

Dorothea glances back at Ingrid with the corner of her eye. She purses her lips, wondering if Ingrid is thinking about Glenn. The first time Ingrid and Dorothea saw this movie together, Ingrid sobbed, admitting that the protagonist reminded her of him, and that seeing the protagonist die was like re-witnessing the car accident all over again. Dorothea remembers simply holding Ingrid in her lap, rocking her back and forth until her tears dried.

Sometimes she wonders if Ingrid is ready to love again. Or at least to try again.

"This movie has left us on such a sad note for the end of the night, hasn't it? We should go out and have some fun! Go dancing in a club!" Dorothea suggests, adding excitement to her voice. “And besides, a little bit of exercise is good for our hearts — especially after all those treats we ate.” She gestures toward the now-empty quart-sized ice cream container and snack wrappers cluttering Ingrid’s nightstand.

To Dorothea’s surprise, Ingrid doesn’t just immediately reject the suggestion, as she normally would when the moment the words ‘go out’ leaves Dorothea’s mouth. She ponders it for a second, sitting up to escape the pile of pillows stacked behind her for their earlier movie-watching.

“Yeah, sure,” Ingrid agrees, hesitant as if unsure. “That sounds like fun.”

Involuntarily, Dorothea feels her eyes widen. “Oh, well, if _you_ want to go, then we should _definitely_ make it out tonight!”

Ingrid then grimaces, as if reminded that she, Ingrid Brandl Galatea, does _not_ go out. She gives Dorothea a tight frown. "Yeah, but then I have to change," she complains, tucking her feet back under the covers and bringing her knees up to her chest. "And I don't want to change out of these sweats."

But Dorothea is not about to let this opportunity pass by. Ingrid agreed! She just needed a little bit of extra support to get herself out there.

"Well, how about we at least get some make-up on you and see how you feel?” Dorothea negotiates. “Even if you don’t feel like going to a club by then, we can at least maybe take a stroll downtown.” She scans Ingrid’s room quickly before turning back to Ingrid. “You still have the make-up set I gave you, right?"

Ingrid's face suddenly pales, as though guilty. "Uh, yes."

Dorothea narrows her eyes. "So where is it?"

Ingrid points her chin in the direction of her vanity. Dorothea gives her a disbelieving look before she swings her feet off the bed, walking over to the mirror and dresser, immediately noticing the light layer of dust covering most of the surface.

Does Ingrid ever even use her vanity? The counter has absolutely nothing on it, save a brush that looks haphazardly tossed onto it from an earlier morning rush to work.

"In the drawer?" Dorothea asks, but she is already reaching down to pull it open, finding an assortment of make-up equipment.

"You haven't even touched these!" Dorothea accuses, picking through the seemingly untouched make-up. "I gave these to you on your birthday and that was half a year ago!" She pivots on her heel to turn back to Ingrid, who looks at her sheepishly.

Ingrid shrugs, with a smile asking for forgiveness. "I don't know,” she replies, flipping the blankets off her and joining Dorothea’s side at the vanity, looking down at the make-up.

"You promised you would at least try!"

"I don't know how," Ingrid says, almost dejectedly. She picks up the turned-over hairbrush on the counter of her vanity and sets it back neatly teeth-side facing up.

Dorothea scrunches her lips, turning back around to scoop the eyeliner, mascara, and eyebrow pencil in one hand and the eyeshadow palette and blender brush in the other. “There's a ton of videos online that can instruct even the most beginner of beginners, you know,” Dorothea chides her. “It’s really not as hard as it seems, you know — especially since I already got you all the equipment! To think I spent so much time researching what palettes and colors would look best on you!”

She sucks her teeth when noting the perfect fan-shape of the unused brush tip. She turns around, closing the dresser drawer with her hips before turning toward Ingrid.

"Do I have to do everything for you?" Dorothea laments.

Ingrid gives her a sad face.

"Alright," Dorothea professes. “No matter. Let's get you pretty and ready to go for tonight.” She points to the bed. “Sit down,” she commands.

Ingrid does as told, sitting on the edge of her mattress. She doesn't look convinced, however, and as Dorothea steps towards her, she slowly slides back further into the bed, giving Dorothea a shaky smile.

"Oh, Ingrid, don't be scared. I'm not going to hurt you!" Dorothea assures her, thighs coming up right against the bed.

"I know," she says. "But—"

Dorothea rolls her eyes. "Don't ‘but’ me," Dorothea scolds. "Come closer so that we can get this done. I promise it won’t take any time at all."

But in fact, Ingrid doesn't come closer, in fact, reaching her arms back to further scoot herself away. She laughs nervously, shaking her head.

"Oh, _Ingrid_ , you’re quite impossible sometimes," Dorothea sighs, then quickly hopping onto her bed on all fours, trapping Ingrid between her knees.

It’s at this point, Ingrid accepts defeat, slumping herself flat on her bed.

"Alright, now let's get you a pillow under your head for some support,” Dorothea says, transferring the make-up onto the blankets next to Ingrid. She takes a pillow from the other side of the bed, tucking it under Ingrid’s head.

Dorothea combs Ingrid’s bangs back over her head, looking over her face briefly. Ingrid's face is so far definitely one of the nicer canvases that Dorothea has had to work with so far, and silently, Dorothea has always wanted to try being the make-up artist for Ingrid.

Ingrid is already as pretty as women can come — Dorothea’s heart fluttered to imagine how Ingrid would look with make-up to accentuate her captivating green eyes, her long thick lashes, her fine delicate eyebrows, and the elegant cut of her cheeks.

Irresistible, probably.

"We don't even need any kind of foundation for you,” Dorothea tells her softly, adjusting the pillow under Ingrid’s head. “You have wonderful skin, you know.”

"I wash it every day in the morning," Ingrid offers. "With water."

Dorothea gives her a quiet laugh. "A natural beauty then," Dorothea replies, taking the eyebrow pencil with her right hand. "Let's just do a touch up of your eyebrows and eyes."

"Okay," Ingrid agrees, nodding her head.

With that, Dorothea makes herself comfortable, sitting back into Ingrid's lap and careful to not put all her weight on her. "You good?”

Ingrid blinks. "Yeah," she says.

"I'll start with your eyebrows — I hate doing eyebrows the most," Dorothea says. Ingrid doesn’t say a word as Dorothea leans in and begins to brush her right eyebrow methodically. “You know,” Dorothea explains, “eyebrows can completely change the look of your face. They frame your eyes and their shape can communicate what kind of a first impression you want to give off.” She switches to brush over Ingrid’s left eyebrow before flipping to the pencil side. “Lucky for you,” she continues, “you have a naturally good shape in your eyebrows. I don’t have to really do anything but make them a little sharper to really wow the crowd.”

"Hm," Ingrid says, nodding.

Dorothea pulls away the pencil. "Don't move, sweetie," she warns, wagging a finger at Ingrid. “I don’t want to misdraw your brow.”

Ingrid almost nods again, but she stops herself as she catches her mistake. Dorothea gives her a stern but amused glare as she quickly outlines the shape of Ingrid's eyebrows, starting with the left. She gently fills in the lighter parts of the eyebrow — not that there were many deficits to begin with. And with as much experience Dorothea has, she almost messes up simply because all the meantime, Ingrid looks back and forth nervously, almost making Dorothea burst out laughing.

"Don't be so nervous!" Dorothea playfully scolds Ingrid. "Don’t you trust me?”

Ingrid only blinks, keep herself rigid and still. Dorothea assumes that’s a yes.

“There is no way I would let you go anywhere in public looking like a mess,” Dorothea replies.

Once done with both eyebrows, she leans back, zooming out to see her handiwork. She sets the eyebrow pencil to the side, picking up the liquid eyeliner in the same motion.

"Now your eyeliner, okay? But you _must_ promise me your eyes won’t wander all over the place, okay?" Dorothea orders. "Just keep your eyes on me."

And so Ingrid does, her green eyes focused on Dorothea as she hovers close. Dorothea can't help but smile when their eyes meet.

"I promise I won't give you that dramatic of a wing, okay?" Dorothea assures her. She moves her wrist forward, the tip of the eyeliner just above Ingrid’s eyelid. "Do you mind if I just rest the palm of my hand on your cheek?"

Ingrid breathes. "Okay."

Dorothea does just that, curving her wrist to execute just the perfect arch before performing the same on the other side. She does the same for the mascara, asking Ingrid to look up as she carefully applies a couple layers of mascara over Ingrid's eyelashes. As Dorothea leans in with full concentration to make sure each side is even, she can’t help but notice how the tips of her hair brush over Ingrid’s skin, falling over the top swells of her breasts.

"Oh,” Dorothea blurts suddenly, stopping and sitting back up. “Am I… tickling you?"

Ingrid seems surprised by Dorothea’s unexpected movement, her eyes widening. “Oh,” she coughs, then clearing her throat. "No," she replies, voice raspy.

“Okay, so… you don’t mind then?” Dorothea asks, slowly leaning back in for the last coat of mascara.

“It’s fine,” Ingrid says quietly.

Dorothea thus resumes brushing on the last layer of mascara on Ingrid’s right lash, slower and more carefully than previously. She starts to feel a blush rise over her cheeks, out of nowhere, and she bites her bottom lip, bidding the heat away from her face.

She inhales sharply as she lifts back up, done with the mascara, turning her face to the side and hoping her cheeks aren’t as pink as they feel.

"Good, we just have the eyeshadow left. The fun part!” she exclaims, picking up the colors in her hand. She cracks opens the palette — it’s very clear by how hard it is to open that it had never been open previously — and peruses the color selection, before dipping the eyeshadow brush into the gold. Dorothea waits for her blush to subside, circling the brush in the gold before leaning forward to Ingrid to paint over her right eyelid.

Before the brush makes contact, Ingrid suddenly grabs Dorothea’s thigh, making Dorothea freeze.

"Wait," she blurts.

Ingrid seems just as surprised as Dorothea by her abruptness, blinking confusedly before she asks, "What color are you using?"

A beat. Then Dorothea bursts out laughing. “All this time, you don’t say a word but when it comes to the color of your eyeshadow you suddenly have an opinion?"

A smile breaks over Ingrid’s lips, a small flush over the tops of her cheeks. She laughs quietly before replying. "I just... I want to see what gold looks like on me."

Dorothea gives her a reassuring smile. "Gold would look _gorgeous_ on you," she tells her. "It's the color I wanted to try on you anyway.” She pulls the tip of the brush back so Ingrid could see the shimmering gold color on the tip of the eyeshadow brush. “I think gold would really draw out those beautiful green eyes of yours.”

At this Ingrid's eyes brighten and her smile widens. "Oh," she says. "Good."

Dorothea can’t help but return a smile to Ingrid. She looks incredibly cute.

“You can still hang onto me if you think that would make you feel better,” Dorothea chuckles.

“Okay,” Ingrid agrees slowly. Her hand relaxes, fingers smoothing out to simply rest on her thigh, warm and soft — perhaps a little sweaty. This amuses Dorothea. To think that someone as tough as Ingrid is weak and afraid about something as delicate as make-up? Adorable.

Carefully blending in the last bits of colors, Dorothea finally sits back up, admiring her work. Ingrid tries to read Dorothea's face.

"How do I look?" she finally asks.

Honestly, it takes a moment for Dorothea to reply — struck by how _even more_ gorgeous Ingrid is now.

"Beautiful," Dorothea simply replies.

Ingrid pulls herself up, and Dorothea swings a leg off her, gathering the make-up products now scattered over the covers. Ingrid goes to the mirror, simply staring at herself for a moment. Even through the dusty mirror, she can surely see her dramatically accentuated visage.

Dorothea joins her at the vanity, stepping in behind Ingrid and placing the make-up on the counter.

"Wow," Ingrid says, turning back to Dorothea. "This is amazing. I can’t believe this is me.” Ingrid turns back to the mirror, her right hand rising to touch her eyes.

"Uh-uh," Dorothea scolds her, quickly catching her wrist. "Don't mess it up now!"

Ingrid laughs. “I guess I have to get used to this,” she muses in a light voice, turning back to the mirror. "I look so different.” She leans forward to get closer to the mirror, turning her face left and right to view the various perspectives of her profile. "I like the gold a lot.”

Dorothea smiles. "It really brings out your eyes," she agrees.

"Yeah..." Ingrid says. She looks back at Dorothea. "Do... do you think I..." she stutters.

"Hm?" Dorothea turns her eyes away from their reflection in the mirror. She rather likes the sight of them standing side-by-side together.

"Do you think I should... put on lipstick too?" Ingrid nervously asks.

At this, Dorothea snorts. "Are you asking me permission to put on lipstick? Please do what you like! I would have never guessed that forcing make-up on you would have inspired you to want to do it yourself! I felt like I was torturing you the entire time!”

Ingrid gives her a shy smile. "Well… I did promise you that I would try the make-up you gave me — I think now is an excellent time."

“Indeed,” Dorothea agrees. “And lipstick should be straightforward enough to figure out.”

Ingrid pulls her drawer out, and the lipstick rolls out to the edge of the drawer. She reaches into the drawer and takes it, hesitantly. The black-and-gold container looks incredibly foreign in Ingrid's hands. As nimble as Ingrid's fingers are, they look awfully clumsy simply pulling off the lipstick cap, which comes off with a sudden pop. Gingerly, Ingrid twists the lipstick up, revealing the maroon color of the lipstick, perfectly smooth and unused.

Ingrid looks back at her for reassurance. "I just... put it on?"

"On your lips, yes," Dorothea teases.

Ingrid half-smiles and then turns back to the mirror, a light tremor in her hands as she draws the lipstick over her mouth. She follows her upper and lower lip with the lipstick and then looks back at Dorothea, who presses her lips together to make Ingrid follow a similar motion. Ingrid presses her lips together, looking again in the mirror, squinting.

"Here, look at me," Dorothea suggests.

At this, Ingrid faces her. Dorothea looks at her studiously, tilting Ingrid’s chin upward with both hands to get a close look at the lipstick. Surprisingly even though it didn’t seem like Ingrid had applied much, the color seemed much too thick, even after spreading it out.

Dorothea laughs. "How hard did you press down on the lipstick?" she asks accusingly. "You really wanted to get that color on you, didn’t you?”

Ingrid frowns.

"Don't worry, don't worry," Dorothea assures her, chuckling again. "We can fix this. We just have to blot the color out a bit.”

"How?"

"Shh..." Dorothea tells her, stepping in. "I have a trick."

Then she leans in and kisses her softly.

As she pulls away, she sees Ingrid's eyes flutter open, a light blush over her cheeks.

Dorothea gives Ingrid’s lips a second look, before humming approvingly.

"Better.”

**Author's Note:**

> confession. I don’t do the make-up thing so. forgive me if there’s a term there that I’ve misused hehe. also i definitely wrote this while half-distracted so i'm pretty sure there will be problems. but the main take home point is. gay.
> 
> yell at me  
> twitter @ napsbeforesleep  
> discord @ ahumanintraining#2153


End file.
